The Occasional Side-Hug
In high school, Zach's soccer team called him "the Constipator." On and off the field, he congested any chance his opponents had at scoring. In high school, even though he wasn't popular, he had a reputation. But that's not important anymore. The Constipator, now attending a mid-size university—the kind too small for fraternities, but big enough for co-ed cheerleaders—now has a great task in front of him: reclaiming a status equivalent or greater than that from high school. "Ahhmmm," Zach said (meaning where do I start?) the first time he realized that he no longer held "the Constipator" title.
The students of Minnesota's Champlain University were not impressed by his new clothes (hand-me-downs from his sister), his faded khaki hair (a combination of a mullet with a comb-over) or his style of conversation (avoiding eye contact and moaning). Zach not only didn't fit in, he caused the rest of the student body to question their own personal worth and hygiene. His idea of health differed from most people's. While most students on campus believed in the "five-second-rule," for the amount of time food can spend on the ground before it's uneatable, Zach strictly followed the "it's not scissors rule." He ate many substances of food, but only Jell-O and Lucky Charms regularly. His idea of health differed from most people’s. Zach's skin above his right elbow elevated and formed two tones of a pink rash because he went the first week of school without a shower and refused to cover his thirteen year old, lily and rose patterned, mattress with sheets. "Ahhmmm," (meaning I feel sick) are the first words Allan (a navy student from New Jersey and the son of a butcher/hairstylist/jockey), Zach's roommate, heard from him as he emerged from under their bunk bed with his left hand in a warm chocolate pudding snack pack (only one week past the expiration date). In fact, most of Zach's first meetings involved pudding and sickness. Soon, Zach found out that people don’t like mixing pudding with sickness. Five out of the five students and teachers Zach met in his first week of school avoided him--he was a considerable distance from reclaiming "the Constipator" type status. Even so, he still managed to find the approval of his peers—kind of.
"Zach, if you jump off of that, I'll give you five dollars" Zach's dorm room neighbor, Taylor said. That's why Zach's ankles are swollen now. Some cantaloupes are smaller than the size of those ankles (a lot tastier too).The five dollar proposal served a more powerful role than an exchange of goods. In his mind, "I'll give you five dollars" meant "I will give you my respect and the occasional side-hug." Sacrificing his ability to walk was worthwhile. However, before this final attempt, he fought diligently to earn "the Constipator" status in the eyes of his school, particularly the group he lived with.
That particular group called themselves, "the Dirty Dozen." The Dirty Dozen, if any group could be, seemed like the perfect match for Zach. The group hated the radio because it felt that creative expression didn't grow there. The members appeared to hate it when groupthink hindered the innovations of the individual. Zach fit because he had creativity and operated as an individual. The campus acknowledged the Dirty Dozen by reputation: the group that lasted a week without showering. When Zach recognized the quality of this group he said, "Ahhmmm" (meaning "Finally, a group that will give me respect and the occasional side-hug). Their friendships were established during that week without a shower. In that time, differences, allegiances, or social status didn't matter. That week was beautiful and sacred to them. It was the start of something.
"Ahhmmm," Zach suggested to Allan in an attempt to find his respect.
"What? Why would you . . ."
"Ahhmmm."
"There's no way you can fill it up in two hours," Allan asserted and pointed to an empty gallon of water."
"Ahhmmm."
"Taylor, come here! Zach says he can fill this jug with pee by the end of the night," the whole dorm floor heard Allan shout. Taylor, accompanied with eleven floor mates, went to Allan and Zach's room. The room never was very messy, but always in accordance with Zach's health code—eight out of the eleven men accompanying Taylor refused stepping past the separated pieces of computer and pudding to enter.
"So you're going to fill it up in one hour?" Taylor asked.
"No. He's not filling that up in my room" Allan said to Taylor.
"Ahhmmm."
"There's no way he can do it. No way, man," Taylor said to provoke Zach.
"There's no way!" Taylor's eleven companions chanted.
"Ahhmmm," Zach replied.
"No way!"
"Ahhmmm." And Zach drank two liters of flat root beer. And Zach filled the jug plus six IBC bottles. Still, the group didn't give him any more respect than what a person who pees in a bottle deserves.
"Ahhmmm," (meaning maybe if I pull the fire alarm, the guys will respect me) Zach thought to himself. 2 am is when Zach's floor sleeps. Zach doesn't. Zach hammers on his carpet, and watches TBN. Hammering and TBN didn't get Zach the respect he wanted, so he pulled the fire alarm.
"Who pulled the fire alarm?" murmured the bloodshot crowd. Protocol requires that the dorm is evacuated in the event of a fire alarm. Because Zach stayed in his room, he didn't hear their murmurs. Unfortunately, Zach lost respect the night he pulled the fire alarm, and that's what led to the swelling of his ankles.
Besides the two failed attempts for gaining respect, Zach tried several times to integrate himself into the Dirty Dozen—the group that consummated their friendship through the week without a shower. Since then, they haven't included anyone else--it was more convenient that way. To them, adding a friend would be like rewatching three seasons of Smallville in order for a newcomer to catch up.
"Zach, if you jump off of that, I'll give you five dollars" Zach's dorm room neighbor, Taylor said. Zach stood over the fire escape, three stories up. "Ahhmmm" (meaning this is my chance to gain their respect) Zach thought to himself. This time the Dirty Dozen watched in amazement. With the rest of campus also watching, Zach still held his confidence, like a man that hasn't realized his fly is down. The blue railing separated him from achieving his glory—he lunged through it.
He jumped. He stuck the landing. Unfortunately, sticking the landing meant that his ankle swelled. All the momentum the forty foot jump developed halted as he said, while everybody watched, "Ahhmmm." The grass he landed on looked unaffected, but his ankle swelled to the size of an amateur cantaloupe. Zach looked more confused than hurt. It didn't matter, though. Because during the fifth second of his airtime, he felt greater than "the Constipator" could have ever. Even so, most people on campus still don't talk to him or give him the occasional side-hug. The Dirty Dozen took him in, though they aren't looking for any more friends.
Sri Lanka #8 (The End)
It's over. Perhaps, I could say that the impact of this rite of passage will last past August, but that's not fitting. It's over, and I'm glad. Glad that comforts will be available, and glad that I have been engaged. I thank God for this summer- He never told, asked, or commisioned me to Sri lanka, however, I give Him credit for all the times "unhindered joy!" was an acceptable exclamation.
I see two possibilites upon my U.S.A arrival (I leave July 25th).
1. Satan will attack his darndest, heh, and I will fall.
2. Satan will attack his darndest, and I will fall...and suck some carpet (prayer with the Christian God).
Please pray. This summer is a catylyst for something important in my life. Pray that the energy is focused in the right direction, for much of the Sri Lankan bi-polar tendancies have been refined in me. Believe me, I am not afraid of losing my salvation, but I've always fallen the hardest after God moved deep in my life.
If you have any last words, or prayers, please comment. When you serial killers of the LORD fight on my behalf through prayer/encouragement on xanga, I know that something is absolutely rocked in the Spiritual, and above all, I feel popular. Don't take that away from me.
Either way, thanks for such high grade friendships. In Sri Lanka, the foreigners I've conversed with have been quite impressive- NGO, Volunteer, Ministry, Stinkin' rich, and impacting people. Yes, God has brought incredible, giving people to Sri Lanka.
I still believe that my friendships are with the highest calibur people around. You people are freaking sweet. Maybe it's because Captivating is one of the only books I took to Lanka, but I'm starting to feel deeply. One of the first areas impacted, is my appreciation for you all. Would you please give God some glory and realize how rare you are? All people are special- not to me. On July 17th, Newsweek actually declared that "Pradeepan has been blessed with the greatest of aquaintances." If you are reading this, don't get distracted by lies, and take it to heart that I desire to be with you, that I love you. Many of you have taught me about true love and revealed aspects of the Father I profaned. I think a "thank you" is appropriate right about now: Thank you. Now you may give yourselves a "God Bless You."
Sri Lanka #7 (The end is coming)
This year, the same team, the same ministry came to Vivuniya. So did I.
He asks me to sing and play guitar by myself. Lead worship.
Love, Pradeepan
Sri Lanka #6 (Mindset of a Man)
Sri Lanka #5 (Brothel Adventure)
Pradeepan’s Big City Bordello Adventure!
Preface:
In the last 36 hours, 24 have been spent on a train. For 12 of those 24, 2 options were given: stand or sit on the cockroach infested floor. Xanga friends, if a Sri Lankan heard me saying this, he would say, “poy!” (Poy:lie). Those last statements were only true a couple days ago.
The trains here are crazier than the buses. When I saw my first road here, the traffic’s pure chaos caught my attention, and I thought “Americans could never drive here.” However, God has taken me to the deeper revelation. American’s could not even walk here. Yes, I have a hard time walking in Sri Lanka. For some reason I feel guilty pushing old ladies off trains in order to walk like everyone else. That probably clears up my reason for standing in the train all those hours. I refused to push my way to the front.
Sri Lankans are of the bi-polar sect, especially when it comes to being aggressive. I will use my train experience to begin this thought. Before the train arrives, everyone waiting is considered family. Sharing food, conversations, and laughs all add to the feeling of family. Heck, I even spent some time with a stranger’s baby. Trust. Then the train comes. And, like Eliza, when I use quality as an adjective to describe someone, the family snaps. The people gird their loins like men and run the race to win. As people literally jump on the moving train, others literally try to push them off. Mothers betray their sons, and daughters forsake their grandparents. My train companions actually scolded me for not pushing my way through.
Becoming all things to all people nothing. This is one thing I refuse to mimic. I guess I’m learning something from Scott’s revelation on keeping the core, but changing.
Old ladies do not deserve to die on train tracks. Case closed.
I only said I would use my train experience to begin my thought on the bi-polar actions of Sri Lankans.
This thought applies to greater things than transportation, or walking to that transportation.
Girls. Yes, they’re still on my mind.
Sri Lankan girls have demonstrated intriguing extremes for me. When around Lankan boys, or perceived born and raised Lankan boys, they tend to be an almost timid type of shy, as oppose to the prideful type of shy. The girls act that way with me also. Then they hear me speak. Then, like not-Maus when hearing the first clap of thunder, they snap. They realize I’m different, and gird their loins…uh…they get aggressive. Somehow, I become free game. Perhaps a little green card happy, but that doesn’t matter to me. The motivation of a girl giving me attention has hardly ever mattered. Oh what a fun life I live. I’m not going to “poy,” it feels good to be called a beautiful man. Ask a friend to call you one sometime, seriously.
Needless to say, not a lot of ministry has been going on. Don’t forget, that was never the intention for this trip. The intention has been to develop relationships with my family. It feels so good to be with family, like my dad’s mother. Mind you, I had never even seen a picture of her.
Believe it or not, all this has been an intro to a story Zimm and Keesh suggested I share. Maybe it wasn’t an intro. Preface. I like that word. One day, perhaps I can be known for writing amazing prefaces. Moving on…
Pradeepan’s Big City Bordello Adventure!
The boy’s name was Gavtiago. The sun was rising as the boy arrived with his herd to an abandoned bathroom in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Oh, Coelho. My mother allowed me to travel to Colombo, the nation’s capital, by train with two young men, Gav and Nesh. Little did Gav, Nesh or I know what horrors we would encounter. Well, maybe Gav, since he’s a hilarious dirty man of a Sri Lankan. Initially, Gav was a shy and polite young man, but outside the presence of mothers, and with us boys, he was a hilarious dirty man of a Sri Lankan. Again, the two extremes were at work.
“You want massage?” while demonstrating on my shoulder, was one of the first ideas communicated to me when finally arriving in Colombo. My first month in Sri Lanka, I experienced the typical tourists ideas of fun. That included a massage.
“Virrapum Illay” I responded. In Tamil that means I don’t like. But, I sometimes use it to say I don’t want (I don’t want: Vernom). A little later, Gav and Nesh took me on a tour through the city. Nesh held my hand (Sri Lankan boys hold hands, fingers interlocked and all. It’s actually quite beautiful when done in purity), and translated Gav’s questions about American women for the majority of the time. Gav “virrapum” the American ladies. He wants one that smokes and wears a bikini. When I say smoke, I mean cigarettes. Colombo is the probably the trendiest city in Sri Lanka, and it was nice to see everything in it. Though, the experience was lessened because “you want massage” kept on popping up in our conversations.
By the 7
th
time, I stopped getting annoyed and started getting curious,
and he probably wanted the massage anyways.
I checked my backpack in, and followed Gavtiago up the stairs. I figured if I just looked, he’d stop bugging me about the massage. “Wanga” (come) said the lady at the desk as she get led me to another room. Gav simply smiled. The empty room gradually filled with Sri Lankan women. Innocent in thinking, I thought “how strange.” Then, I noticed that these women weren’t clothed like normal Sri Lankan women, and wore a lot more makeup than the normal women.
I engaged in a conversation with my heart.
Probably not the best time, for to everyone else it looks I’ve gone brain dead.
“What the crap are you doing in this Bordello” Heart said.
“Bordello” Wait…those are prostitutes?” the innocents/Godly boy inquired.
“Yeah. Just look at them.”
“Eww.”
Heart related and said, “Tell me about it. Guard your carnal treasure Pradeepan.”
“Guard my carnal treasure? Heart, you know me better than that. This is disgusting”
“Pradeepan, get outta there!”
“Lighten up, we are in a bordello after all” I jested.
Not amused, Heart replied, “don’t make me get the Holy Spirit.”
All of that took place in about five seconds. A long time, when so many people are staring at you.
I didn’t know what to do. I talked to the sun, the wind and dessert and still didn’t know how to turn into the wind, so that wasn’t an option for escape. In Tamil, I had to take action. “Virrapum Illay! Virrapum Illay!” I proclaimed. Remember, that means I don’t like, but I used it to say I don’t want. When 10 plus girls are waiting for you to choose one of them for a “massage,” saying I don’t like is not the best thing. They went from seducing me, to a sort of offended anger, as oppose to the irritated type of anger. Those girls got real scary.
I can relate to Joseph the Dreamer. He ran from Pottifer’s wife, and while still proclaiming “virrapum illay,” that’s exactly what I did.
Nesh never went inside. Somehow, he knew. Take this advice, if someone takes you to get a massage, and you have to walk through a bar to get to it, don’t go. Maybe that’s how Nesh knew.
I scolded Gav, and explained to him “naan Pastor” (I am a pastor). He already knew that though.
We had a good laugh about it, and everytime Nesh and I see the shy and polite boy that Gav is,
in the presence of mothers, we laugh.
Oh, what a hilarious dirty Sri Lankan of a man.
The End.
This has got to be my longest Xanga entry. Before I leave, I want to affirm you all that I’m still a man of God. The reason Gav, Nesh and I were able to have a good laugh is because nothing happened. Praise God. I never want to go in a place like that again. Eww.
Anyways, I also want to thank you all for the encouragements. I re-read all your comments, prayers, and words of affirmation so many times. Words of affirmation is
definitely one of my better ways of hearing love. If I’m not commenting on your site a lot, don’t worry. When I see you in real life, you’re probably going to get a lot of kisses fro me.
Scattered thoughts:
This post might look weird. It doesn't look right on Sri lankan comps.
I might meet the prime minister today.
Made friends with a good English speaking born again Sri Lankan (his father didn’t talk to him for seven years, starting at the age of 9, because of his conversion to Christianity). His name is Raja.
Raja’s best friend has the same birthday as me. July 9
th
.
God is still transforming me.
I love you, in ways I never knew how to before this trip.
Here are more pictures. Besides one, I’ll just post the links. With the slow internet, it's easier for me.
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7230756.jpg
(Everyone has a photo like this, so why not)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7270979.jpg
(The mom and I)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7270928.jpg
(Temple area)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7270917.jpg
(One of my favorite pictures of those I've taken)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7260913.jpg
(Random people we hung out with in Jaffna. Look at my face.)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7260893.jpg
(Rebel force, LTTE, Leader's house)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7260841.jpg
(Father's childhood neighbor)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7260822.jpg
(Actual classroom my father used)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7240775.jpg
(First meeting with my Grandma)
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/pradeepan/P7270927.jpg
(Free food!)
Sri Lanka #4 (Celebrity)
I just brought my cousin Danesh to the doctor.On the way there, I recognized some people and was acknowledged by others. I am writing this email in my journal before I take an hour long drive that will only being after walking fifteen minutes through the mountain to a bus. As I am writing this, the husband of the house brought in a piece of wood with a hole in it to put over the squatty potty. Well...there's more to this but I have to leave because the internet cafe is closing for lunch. It's a constant adventure. Joel Watson, for some reason I keep on thinking of you-- know that I'm praying for you and wish you were adventuring with me. God bless.
One month in Sri lanka, two more to go (part II).
A lot of the stores were shut down due to prayer, and lunchtime, but I'm back.
As that husband brought in the piece of wood, my tha-tha (grandpa) was falling alseep in the middle of the room with seven people around him. The TV is on. The last commercial started off with a baby in the womb holding his elbellical cord, and suddenly it transforms into a tire swing. I have seen that commercial almost twenty times and I still have no idea what it is advertising. Everybody around me can seak English, but choose to speak Tamil or Singhalese. That leaves me trying to learn two languages with two months left. Though, I'm trying to learn two languages, I spend most of my time in silence. The family is used to it and I'm getting used to it. I journal, read, play guitar and engage in other activities. It's a unique experience I'm living because around the house I can't really speak any of the languages. So, the 12 and 13 year olds take advantage of this and I end up as the butt of jokes. This is funny because at the church I've been attending, a lot of the members have been holding me in reverence as the man of God with the gift to pray for the sick. It's an awesome contrast because it feeds my ego while keeping me humbles. I am discovering that examples like that are what I want balance to be in my life. Not that I'm average at several things...average at being crazy and seroius. Rather that I'm so crazy that it's only balanced out by me beeing very serious. It's a good lesson to learn--being what you are 100% wherever you are.
Just know that good things are happening in Sri Lanka, and when I get back to America I will be a different person. If you liked the old Pradeepan, you'll probably be able to find remnants of him. Don't worry, the new one is much better.
God bless.